night visitor

the single
mouse
darting
across the floor,
on a crumb
and cheese hunt,
stops
suddenly
and rises onto
on his hind
legs,
his whiskers
shaking as he
wonders
what you
are doing up
so late,
so early
in the chair
with your
feet up,
a book in
your lap,
the sun still
hours away.
it confuses him,
this untimely
sighting,
then he scampers
away
to make a note
of it,
beware, he writes,
something
is amiss.